


Don't Fuck With a Milkovich Enthusiast

by ronans



Series: Prompts [6]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fiona's not in jail, M/M, Post 4x11, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 19:28:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2880509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ronans/pseuds/ronans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><strong>Prompt:</strong> Carl really looks up to Mickey and respects him, sees how much Mickey really loves his brother and defends him against Lip and Fiona/anyone doubting them - <a href="http://southsidemilkovich.tumblr.com/post/106294302169/could-you-maybe-write-a-fic-where-carl-really">Anon</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

‘You hear about what happened at the Alibi the other night?!’ V yells tiredly as she hauls her new-borns through the front door and then through the house to the kitchen. Fiona glances up at her friend and watches her slump down into a chair at the breakfast table, carefully placing her babies on the floor in their carriers.

Carl definitely had, and thought what Mickey did for his brother was fucking amazing. That view had only solidified on that night – before he’d even heard about what had happened. He’d heard some noise in the kitchen and had gone downstairs only to see a bloodied Ian and Mickey staggering around the room together, collecting various items like towels, alcohol and band aids. It was kind of nice (and slightly weird, don’t get him wrong, he’s still adjusting to this type of affection coming from Mickey Milkovich) to watch them bandage each other up and talk in hushed voices.

‘Who _hasn’t_ heard?’ Fiona snorts, shaking her head and sighing. ‘I don’t know… I don’t like it, V. Mickey and my brother in public? I mean… _Mickey_?’

‘I get you, you should hear some of his and Kev’s conversations. Can Skankovich also apply to a dude Milkovich?’ V asks, chewing on a slightly stale breadstick she’d picked up from the basket on the table, using her foot to switch between rocking her twins’ carriers. Carl grits his teeth but still keeps his eyes on his pop tarts as his sister responds with a full bodied laugh.

Lip trudges into the room and dumps his heavy messenger bag on top of the washing machine, grinning widely at the topic of conversation. ‘If not, I’m sure we can make an exception.’

‘He would know,’ V chuckles, dusting her hands off before standing up. ‘Well, being the only other Gallagher to stick it in a Milkovich an’ all.’

‘And let’s keep it that way,’ Fiona says, bugging her eyes and then lifting her beer in a toast. V cackles and kisses Fiona’s cheek as she walks past her, arms laden with babies.

‘I gotta go; Kev’ll be home soon and’ll wanna see these ones,’ she coos, leaning down a little to look at her children. ‘I just came over to gossip,’ she admits, voice volume growing as she walks through the house so she can still be heard.

As Veronica leaves out the door, Carl’s reeling, wishing he’d spoken up.

*

‘Hey,’ Mickey huffs out to Carl, the only one present in the Gallagher house, as he opens the backdoor and starts to unwind his scarf. He snaps his head up and watches Mickey hang his coat and scarf on the hangers next to the door.

‘Hi…’

‘Just, uh… Just came to get some of Ian’s stuff. Hasn’t got any sweaters at mine so he’s probably fuckin’ freezing. Can’t pay the heating bills.’ The _Ian doesn’t really want to come over here_ goes unspoken, because why else would he have sent Mickey on his own and not come over himself. He’s distanced himself from his family since Mickey had come out at the bar. Carl thinks it’s because Mickey’s shown more affection towards his brother than the Gallagher’s have recently. Yeah, sure, they’ve all had their own shit to deal with, but Carl honestly respects Mickey for taking care of his brother when the rest of them can’t.

‘You need help finding the right stuff?’ Carl offers. Mickey bites his lip for a moment before nodding slightly hesitantly. The chair makes a screeching sound in Carl’s eagerness to get out of it. Mickey watches him with a strange look because, okay, they haven’t really interacted much so it might come across as odd, but since Carl heard about Mickey’s coming out and since he actually witnessed the aftermath of Ian and Mickey caring for each other in the Gallagher kitchen, he’s wanted to express himself.

Carl rifles through Ian’s old chest of drawers, pulling out various items of clothing he’d seen his brother wear the most before he’d run off to join the army, throwing them into Mickey’s awaiting arms. He looks a little pissed off at Carl’s sloppy treatment but doesn’t voice any complaints so Carl takes that as a win.

As he opens the next draw, a crease forms between his eyebrows and he stops, thinking back to the day before and what Fiona, Lip and V had said.

‘C’mon, kid, I haven’t got all day,’ Mickey grumbles after a few moments of Carl being motionless.

Carl balls up a long sleeved shirt in his hands and turns to face Mickey. ‘You talked to Fiona recently?’

Mickey looks surprised and glances away from Carl. ‘Uh, no. Pretty sure the bitch hates my guts.’

‘You talked to _anyone_ since-‘

‘Nah, not really,’ Mickey cuts him off, clearly still uncomfortable with addressing the subject of his public sexuality. He clears his throat and then glares at Carl. ‘The fuck you gettin’ at anyway, Gallagher?’

Carl’s thinking about how his family hadn’t been provided with the evidence of Mickey caring for Ian. So maybe that explained their stubborn opinions on the Milkovich. Still, it was hard to try to justify them whilst Carl’s paid enough attention to plainly see that things have changed, and that Mickey really does love his brother.

He decides not to bring all this up with Mickey, because although he wouldn’t hesitate to show his soft side to _Ian_ , he’s pretty sure that doesn’t apply to any other Gallagher. Carl shakes his head and blinks. ‘Nothing. How much more d’you need to take?’

Mickey stares at him suspiciously before deciding he doesn’t give a shit and returns his full focus to collecting Ian’s clothes and then getting the fuck out of there.

*

It happens again not two days later whilst Lip’s rushing around getting ready to return to College and he brings up the topic of Ian.

‘Ian been around lately?’

Fiona rolls her eyes and continues to pull out the meagre ingredients they have left for dinner. ‘No. He’s been staying with _Mickey_.’

Lip lets out a small chuckle and drops Liam in his play pen. ‘Oh yeah? He’s still over there?’

‘Mhm, can’t think why.’

‘Can you just fucking stop?’ Carl bursts out, making Fiona and Lip both jump in surprise and turn to him with wide eyes. He’s breathing heavily because he’s kept this bottled up for about a week and it’s time for him to nut the fuck up and say something.

‘Carl? You okay?’ Fiona asks, lurching forward to comfort him before he flinches back.

‘How the fuck are you still acting like this after Mickey came out? It’s like you don’t even care that he loves Ian.’

‘Woah, Carl, nobody ever said anything about lo-‘

‘It’s obvious. I know what love looks like, okay?’ Carl defends himself. He’s only twelve but he’s not an idiot. ‘Anyway, I asked Ian if _he_ loved Mickey and he didn’t say _no_.’

‘Didn’t say _yes_ either, by the sounds of things,’ Lip retorts smugly.

‘You didn’t see them after the Alibi.’

Lip’s grin morphs into a frown and he stares at his brother. ‘What, and you did?’

‘Came downstairs and they were in here.’ He’s about to explain what he saw when he catches Fiona’s pitying expression, like she knows this whole thing better than he does just because she’s older.

‘Look, I know shit went down that night but… well, Mickey dragged Ian into that. I don’t think he’s good for him, Carl.’

Carl presses his lips together and shakes his head. ‘Maybe I thought Mickey was a bit of a dick before but he really fucking loves him. He was looking after him and do you honestly think a _Milkovich_ would come out in the South Side if he didn’t love Ian? Stop trash talking their relationship and treating it like it’s nothing, you don’t say it about me and Bonnie, so why would you about Ian and Mickey?’

Fiona’s mouth snaps shut but she carries on staring wide eyed at her brother like she never expected him to defend this kind of cause.

Although Carl often comes across as someone who doesn’t care and who makes the wrong choices, he knows what’s right here. He defends the people he looks up to, and Mickey Milkovich, he’s decided, is most definitely one of those people.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt:** Ian and Mickey are at the Gallagers for dinner or something and someone brings it up and it starts a whole thing again. - [Anon](http://southsidemilkovich.tumblr.com/post/112078545959/hey-i-loved-your-latest-fic-on-ao3-about-carl)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I got asked for a sequel, and with all the Carl Gallagher stuff on Tumblr I finally felt motivated to write it. Plus the actual Carl and Mickey interaction on the show made me really want to write this. I hope you like it :)

It’d taken a few days of convincing, but finally Ian had been persuaded to come over for a family dinner. The one condition being that Mickey also had to come.

Fiona had appeared less than happy at this, but Carl could tell that even though she’d been going through a lot of shit, she still missed her brother, still missed having a full house of the Gallagher’s she cared about.

‘You need help with that?’

Fiona’s eyebrows raise and she does a double take, nearly dropping the pan she’s holding. ‘Carl? You okay?’

Carl rolls his eyes and snatches the pan out of her hands, marching over to the stove with determination. ‘I’m fine, why the hell wouldn’t I be?’

Fiona stares at her brother as he starts preparing the vegetables. Her eyes are wide as he moves around the kitchen like this is a regular thing he does when in reality he’s barely even touched a piece of broccoli in his life.

‘Well… alright.’

With Carl’s help, dinner gets done a lot more quickly than usual and it’s the first home cooked meal they'll have had in a while. Lip traipses in just as the chicken finishes cooking, sliding his beanie off his head and shrugging off his coat.

‘Smells good,’ he says, walking into the kitchen to hug Fiona and ruffle Carl’s hair.

‘Carl helped, can you believe it?’

Lip raises an eyebrow and turns his gaze to his brother. ‘Seriously?’

Fiona nods and throws her arm around Carl’s shoulders. He instantly bats her away and rolls his eyes, tugging at the collar of his thick winter sweater. ‘He insisted. Well, if you call ripping the cooking pot out of my hands insisting.’

‘Fuck.’ Lip chuckles and unwinds his scarf, moving over to the coat rack to hang everything up.

‘ _I_ offered to make cookies for dessert but _Fiona_ refused,’ Debbie says as she jogs down the last couple of stairs into the kitchen, an irritated look on her face.

‘Hey, Debs,’ Lip greets, waving at her.

‘Hi,’ she responds with an eye roll, going straight over to the oven to check that the chicken's still okay.

‘We need to eat more healthily, okay? And cookies aren’t healthy.’

‘Cocaine’s not healthy either, but that didn’t-‘

‘Debbie!’ Lip warns, scowling at her, instantly getting serious.

Fiona lets out a groan. ‘Is this all we’re gonna be like all fuckin’ evenin’?’

‘ _Anyway_ ,’ Debbie continues. ‘I don’t think Mickey Milkovich is going to care whether or not we’re trying to promote a healthy life style.’

Lip draws his eyebrows together and picks up a dishtowel from by the sink and starts to dry off some cups to use at dinner. ‘Wait, Mickey’s coming?’

Fiona inclines her head slowly and Carl hates how much his sister looks like she hates the idea. ‘Yup. Was a condition of Ian’s, actually.’

‘Jesus,’ he mutters, carrying some glasses over to the table. He kisses Liam on the head as he passes him and then just takes a seat, waiting for the last Gallagher to arrive along with his date.

‘You okay?’ Debbie asks after a moment, narrowing her eyes at Carl. He blinks and then shrugs.

‘Yeah. Just… I’m gonna go take this off,’ he mumbles, pulling off his sweater because he thinks things are soon going to dangerously heat up in the house as the evening progresses; he really doesn’t predict good things. Plus, the sweater is like the least badass thing he owns and he likes to appear cool to Ian and Mickey, not that he’s going to admit that out loud, he wants to make it look like it's effortless, obviously.

He throws it in carelessly with the pile of washing in the corner of the room and receives a disapproving glare from Fiona for his efforts. He elects to just go and sit with Lip instead of continuing to be on the end of one of his sister’s looks.

‘Hey, man,’ Lip greets.

‘Sup.’

Lip chuckles quietly and then reclines back in his chair before whipping his head forward to look directly at Carl. ‘So… You’re cool with Mickey bein’ here?’

‘Yeah. Ian wants him here, so why would I have a problem?’

Lip presses his lips together and nods before tipping his head up a bit. ‘You invite your girlfriend?’

‘Nah.’

Lip squints at Carl, waiting for him to elaborate. When it becomes clear he’s not going to, he opens his mouth to create further conversation, but the front door opens. Ian and Mickey look on complete opposite ends of the spectrum of emotion, Mickey looking apprehensive, and Ian looking actually surprisingly happy to be back home. Carl’s betting a lot of that’s to do with the fact that Mickey’s by his side.

‘Ian!’ Fiona practically squeals, enveloping him in a hug. Mickey stands awkwardly off to the side before accidentally making eye contact with Carl. They nod at each other from across the room in acknowledgement and leave it at that.

‘Hey, Lip,’ Ian says as he starts to move through the Gallaghers, letting go of Debbie in the kitchen. Lip stands up and claps Ian on the back as they hug.

‘You’re just in time,’ Fiona says through a grin. ‘We’re just plating up.’

‘Smells good.’

‘That’s what Lip said,’ Carl utters as Ian reaches him on his greeting round.

Ian smiles and leans in to hug Carl. ‘Well it’s true. But I should probably think about being more original.’

‘You don’t get much more original than a walking giant freckle with an eagle tattooed on his side,’ Mickey pipes up.

‘ _Ex_ giant freckle, actually,’ Ian corrects, one corner of his mouth pulling up as he looks over at Mickey. Carl himself smiles as Mickey mirrors the expression.

‘Okay, everyone, take a seat,’ Fiona orders, balancing multiple plates of food in her arms, closely followed by Debbie with more. They dish them out and soon all of the Gallagher's – bar Fiona who’s still finishing up in the kitchen – plus one Milkovich are digging in to their meals.

They’ve barely been sat down for two minutes before Fiona’s finally walking over from the kitchen to join them, carrying Liam’s sippy cup. She hands it to him, beaming at her little brother.

‘It’s nice to have Ian here for a change,’ Fiona comments, wiping her hands on her jeans before taking a seat at the table. Carl watches as both Ian and Mickey furrow their brows and stare at her as she starts to cut up her chicken. It takes a few moments for her to glance up, and when she does, Ian’s first to speak.

‘The fuck’s that supposed to mean?’

Lip lets out a sigh and Debbie looks suddenly awkward. Fiona grins but it seems forced and careful. She shrugs and shakes her head. ‘I dunno, it’s just… nice, yeah, I said it was nice.’

Ian looks over at Mickey before rolling his eyes and staring back at Fiona. ‘Yeah, but you said it like it’s Mickey’s fault I’m not here all the time.’

Fiona raises her hands up in a placating manner. ‘I didn’t mean anythin’ by it.’

Ian’s jaw locks and he rolls his eyes to the ceiling. ‘Sure.’

Carl can feel it building inside him, the need to diffuse the tension, the need to make Fiona stop insinuating that Mickey’s a piece of shit that’s brought down this misery on the family because he’s somehow ripped their brother away.

‘It’s just…’ Fiona murmurs, eyes going from one Gallagher to the next before settling on Mickey. ‘Seems you’ve been keepin’ him away from us lately. You know… Havin’ him all to yourself when he only just got back.’

Mickey looks fucking outraged and Carl squeezes his eyes shut. For fuck’s sake.

‘S’cuse me?’

Fiona shrugs again. ‘It’d just be nice if we could all spend some time as a family more often. Ian seems to be stayin’ with you more than he’s over here.’

 _Seems_. Everyone knows it’s true. And Carl’s good with it. Well, he’s not good with not seeing he’s brother as much, but he’s cool with Ian making the conscious decision to want to stay over at his boyfriend’s house.

‘Thought you said he was seventeen and could make his own decisions,’ Carl finally mumbles, prodding at his meal. The table goes quiet and Carl can feel six sets of eyes on him, even Liam’s because the youngest Gallagher has somehow picked up on the fact that there’s tension and Carl’s the focus of it.

As soon as Carl looks up, he makes eye contact with Fiona and she suddenly looks nervous but is trying to disguise it with a harried smile. ‘Well… Yeah, I did say that but…’

Carl elevates an eyebrow. ‘But what?’

She’s not used to Carl talking back to her without it being about the boundaries she’s set for him, so she looks surprised. She lets out a small laugh and glances over at Ian and Mickey, who have both drawn their faces into tight expressions. Gallagher dinners aren’t supposed to be this tense; they’re supposed to be about family, they’re supposed to be about petty chatter about how their days went, how they’re keeping out of trouble.

Taking opportunity of the silence, Lip clears his throat and smirks, reaching across the table and obviously trying to stir things up. ‘While you’re here, you think you could pass me the salt, Mickey?’

‘You’re such an asshole, I’m fuckin’ out of here,’ Mickey mutters, shaking his head as he pushes away from the table. Ian tracks his movements as Mickey yanks his coat off the hanger and marches through the house and out the front door. As soon as it’s shut, all hell breaks loose.

‘Lip!’ Fiona admonishes, reaching over the table to slap him on the head.

Lip flinches back and rolls the sleeves of his burgundy sweater up to his elbows, grinning. ‘What? I needed the salt!’

‘Fuck you, Lip, and Fiona, what the hell?!’ Ian yells, glaring over at his sister. Debbie just lets out a groan and lowers her head to the table. Carl bites his lips and watches his siblings start to tear at each other’s throats, all blaming each other for ruining the meal. While their attention’s diverted, Carl takes the opportunity to sneak away from the table, following Mickey’s footsteps out the front door. As soon as he steps outside, he spots Mickey leaning against the porch railing, smoke billowing from a lit cigarette.

‘Can I have one?’

Mickey glances behind him at Carl and then lets out a small laugh. ‘Fuck off, kid.’

Carl knows Mickey’s talking about the cigarette rather than rejecting his company so he steps out further onto the porch, watching his breath cloud in front of him. He wishes he’d picked up his coat on his way out.

Slowly, Mickey lowers himself down onto the top step and breathes out a sigh, rubbing his hands together. After pursing his lips for a moment, thinking, Carl joins him.

‘That, uh…’ Mickey starts, rubbing at his bottom lip. ‘That was really cool what you did back there.’

Carl tries to hide his proud smile. ‘No problem, dude.’

Mickey chuckles and shakes his head, taking another long pull of his cigarette. He tips his head slightly and Carl knows he's listening to the din of a Gallagher argument inside the house.

‘Set off a fuckin’ civil war comin’ here, didn’t I?’

Carl smiles tightly and starts picking at a loose thread on his shirt. ‘Was bound to happen soon. Don’t think it would matter if you were here with Ian or not.’

Mickey hums a bitter laugh and squints up at the clouded over night sky. It’s quiet between them and Carl’s holding his tongue. Mickey looks at him from the corner of his eye and then sighs. ‘You got somethin’ to say, just have out with it.’

‘For the record, I think you’re good for Ian. Yours is the healthiest relationship I’ve ever seen, man. Fiona hooked up with Jimmy-‘

‘I think I remember him. The big shot car thief who used to hang ‘round here, right? He was an asshole.’

Carl grins. ‘Yeah. But… Jimmy was a shit show, and nobody really cared. Now Fiona’s judging you because she’s protective over us... if that makes sense...’ Carl swallows and narrows his eyes.

‘Maybe she cares too much, huh,’ Mickey mutters. He sniffs and crushes the end of his cigarette under his boot heel before deliberating over whether to continue.

Carl decides to be bold and punches Mickey on the arm. ‘You got somethin’ to say, just have out with it.’

Mickey raises his eyebrows and stares Carl down with a murderous look until Carl clears his throat and glances away.

‘You do that again, I’mma kick your ass.’

‘Noted.’ There’s no fucking doubt Carl can hold his own, he just doesn’t really feel like taking Mickey on right now.

He can see Mickey’s smiling now, though, so he figures he’s clear. ‘Between us? It’s just... I kinda wish she cared more when Ian wasn’t around, you know? Had to haul his ass back here on my own. ‘Coulda used the help.’

Carl scrunches his eyebrows together for a moment, connecting the parts of the conversation Mickey’s continuing. If he’s honest, he never would have expected Mickey to be open with him of all people. Carl’s usually written off as the pyro, the assumed to be illiterate, likely future convict of the family, not a confidante.

Eventually, Carl decides it’s time to stick up for his family and try to talk Mickey around. ‘Lip and Debbie tried,’ he begins, pursing his lips and continuing to pick at the loose thread.

‘Yeah, Lip, uh… Lip came to me, askin' if I knew anything,’ Mickey says, coughing a little, like the confession’s left a bad taste in his mouth. Carl doesn’t have to be a genius to pick up on the fact that Mickey doesn’t like Lip very much.

‘Fiona had a lot of shit to deal with,’ he adds. ‘ _Everything_ was shit.’

Mickey glances over at Carl, frowning a little. ‘Oh yeah? What was it for you?’

‘My dad’s messed up,’ he says glumly. Because it’s true and he’s not really sure how to work through this, and no one seems to understand why he still cares about his useless father.

‘Whose dad ain’t,’ Mickey says simply, and somehow it’s better than him just saying _your dad’s a piece of shit; why bother_?

The argument seems to have died down inside a bit but Ian’s voice still carries above the rest. Carl shrugs and looks over at Mickey.

‘Least Ian’s back though, right?’

Mickey smiles sadly and flicks his lighter on, and Carl can tell Mickey knows everything’s not the same as it was before. ‘Yeah. Least Ian’s back.’

**Author's Note:**

> [I'm still taking prompts if you'd like to send one! ](http://southsidemilkovich.tumblr.com)


End file.
